Being on display

Touch me without touching, when I stand in front of you and talk. I give myself to you, the part of myself that is my knowledge and my mind and my humour and my deep desire for you to like me.

I touch you, when you are in front of me. You sing, perhaps, you quiver, you seek approval from all of us who watch you. I do not have to reach out to touch you, but I touch nonetheless.

We meet somewhere in the middle - touching me, teaching me, teaching you, touching you... ours is a dance of power, of insight, of learning and wanting and knowing and not-knowing. And this we do in full display of everyone, it being the way it is designed to be. This we do with everyone else watching and dancing along.

And if it comes to the surface? If any one of us sits up and notices? It is suddenly abject, despised, source of danger. But it is precisely the way it is designed to be. We have no choice... it is what it is, and sometimes we will notice. Why can that threshold not be crossed? Why can we not reach out and touch with touching? The body is but flesh and bones - perhaps. But it is also mind and spirit and person and space and identity and boundary and definition. To touch is to step into all of those. Even not to touch is a step towards - the space of identity extends well beyond the boundaries of the skin. So maybe we will not reach out for fear of burning, but we will continue to touch.